one day I dreamed of those
who anchored in clouds
above the dreaming world
startled into a sleep so deep
by war and wars alarms
but they, a vigil fantastical did keep
oh living tree of language,
where are you now
not in marble nor in bronze
have they laid you to sleep
but in a crueler lapse somehow
I woke in tears remembering
that at your sound and resounding
angels came to take the griefs away
resetting Eden.
where are you now I cried
but there was none fo hear
while like a child without a mother's kiss
in bitter tears much more
i wept to think:
Poetry. was once like this.
mary angela douglas 24 october 2017
